


still figurin' out

by Theo-Sev (Sevv7)



Category: Leverage
Genre: F/M, From S5E03: The First Contact Job, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Missing Scenes, Multi, Pining, Unhelpful Food Metaphors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26093032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sevv7/pseuds/Theo-Sev
Summary: Eliot pulls out the earbud and glares at it accusingly. Maybe having them in his ear all the time isn’t healthy. Hearing two people with that much chemistry whispering to each other all day long would grate on anyone.The fact that it never happens with Nate and Sophie is conveniently ignored.Or, how a charged moment between Parker and Hardison in the air vents sends Eliot into a tail spin which somehow ends in a date.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker, Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer
Comments: 33
Kudos: 203





	still figurin' out

Eliot should take his comms out. Nate’s listening in and it’s not exactly like he has any insight he can add to what is essentially a tailor made thief/ hacker job. Still, he likes hearing their voices in his ear as he scans through recipes and scribbles down notes in shorthand about the ingredient substitutions he wants to try.

Listening in is easy. He has an excuse prepared, should he need it. Although it’s partially for himself, because if he tells himself that he’s just listening in incase shit hits the fan and he needs to get involved, then he doesn’t have to think so hard about the other reason.

At the moment, they’re arguing about date plans. It’s light and carefree, until Parker suggests bungee jumping off a hot air balloon. Nate rolls his eyes and the long suffering look he gives Eliot is one which says ‘jeez, why do we put up with this?’. Eliot smirks and returns the look, because that’s what’s expected of him.

Hearing them talking so openly about their relationship is weird. It’s such a far cry from the cocky but immature geek kid and the flighty, kind of insane girl he met on a rooftop in Chicago. Seeing them grow, separately and together, has been. Well, something. It gives Eliot hope that there are still good things in the world. Really, really good things. And they’re things he gets to be a part of.

From the sidelines, anyway. But still.

There’s a slight shuffle through the comms as Parker hurries Hardison along, and then a few metallic bangs, signalling them climbing into the airduct. Nate seems to breathe a little easier once they’re safely out of the server room, but Eliot was never worried. The pair are two of the most talented people he’s ever met and there’s not much that can get in their way when they're working together. Throw Eliot into the mix to deal with the tough guys, and the three of them are actually unstoppable. A perfect team - or, maybe, a perfect pair plus Eliot.

He can hear the sound of breathing and not much else. His attention wanders back to the recipes and he’s almost lost interest in the audio when the breathing speeds up a little.

“See? Vents are better,” comes Parker’s voice, intense and - provocative?

The next sound is a deep inhale, and then Hardison says slowly, “It’s not that bad.”

An image swims into Eliot’s head of the two of them in the vent. Space is restricted and they’re close, maybe one on top of the other - Parker, she’d be the one on top. And they’re looking at each other with heavy eyes and tension and their mouths are so close to -

He snaps the cap off the pen he’s holding and slams it down hard. Nate spins to look at him, frowning. Eliot shrugs slightly, back in control.

Thoughts like that need to be kept a hold of, but more and more they’re slipping through the cracks, and Eliot’s not sure what to make of them. Sometimes, when he’s alone in bed, or in the shower, his body reacts physically to them and the easiest thing to do is to just take care of it. Maybe that’s not a smart idea. Maybe it’s teaching his mind that there’s not a problem with picturing stuff like that. Maybe if he tries harder the thoughts will stop.

Except there’s a part of him that knows they won’t.

When the two of them are safely back in Lucille, Eliot pulls out the earbud and glares at it accusingly. Maybe having them in his ear all the time isn’t healthy. Hearing two people with that much chemistry whispering to each other all day long would grate on anyone.

The fact that it never happens with Nate and Sophie is conveniently ignored.

He spends a couple of hours in the kitchen angrily chopping vegetables. All sorts, onions, peppers, zucchini. He tears spinach leaves and trims asparagus, and by the time the evening staff arrive, the kitchen is nearly fully prepped. All except the beets. He really fucking hates those.

The staff seem a little surprised, but they give him space as they get to work at their respective stations. He pulls out a pot in a quiet corner and starts throwing things in. Mostly he sticks to his original recipe, but inevitably he sees a couple of other things around the kitchen that he wants to try out.

See, the thing about a recipe is that two ingredients can go great together. But that doesn’t mean you can’t experiment with a third and see how that changes it. Like - like cheese and tomato on a pizza is a classic, but what if you add pepperoni? It’s not for everyone, but it doesn’t make the dish objectively worse.

Eliot thinks about anchovies and pineapple though, and how some things are _definitely_ worse.

The thing is though, you never know for sure what’s gonna be worse and what’s gonna be just as good (and Eliot never lets himself think ‘better’), until you try it. But if you’ve only got one pizza and you go and mess it up, well. That’s a fuck up on a scale that Eliot doesn’t even want to contemplate.

Really it’s getting him nowhere. Thinking in food metaphors often ends up with some fun new recipes to try, but it rarely gives the insights he’s after.

The mismash of ingredients he’s been watching simmer are coming on real nice, now. There’s a rich sweetness to the aroma but there’s still a few things missing. Eliot takes a few handfuls of herbs to toss in, and goes in search of seasoning.

Sure enough, right where Hardison told him he’d left it, is the salt Eliot had specifically requested. Except, it’s _not_ the salt he had specifically requested, so he stomps out of the kitchen and through to their office space.

It’s not until he’s almost there that he realises he’s still got a dishtowel slung over one shoulder and his hands still smell of chopped basil. But like hell is he using Hardison’s iodized salt that leaves its metallic taste in all the dishes it’s added to. Nu-uh. And Hardison needs to know this.

“Hardison, I said sea salt. This is iodized salt. Who got the military satellite intercept? You’re not supposed to…”

Sophie gives him a long look and Hardison is definitely not paying attention to the salt issue.

“It’s a very distinctive static,” he says defensively. Because it _is._

Nate starts hypothesizing and Eliot realises he’s being sucked into a briefing whether he wants to or not. He puts down the offending salt container, wipes his hands off on the towel and tries not to wonder if Parker and Hardison managed to agree on their date. It’s got nothing to do with him; even though, on some level, maybe a small part of him wishes otherwise.

They’re good. And they’re good _together._ And, more to the point, Eliot might be a third ingredient but he sure as fuck isn’t pepperoni, just like he sure as fuck wouldn’t make a good addition to the pizza that was Parker and Hardison.

Okay, the metaphor got weird.

He tries to think about in actual terms - Parker and Hardison and him. In a relationship. Fuck. His mind balks at the words. If he feels guilty for thinking about them when he gets off (and he does), that’s nothing compared to this.

Then Nate says something about extraterrestrial life, and even though it’s patently ridiculous, Eliot latches on to something that will pull him out of his own head. Unfortunately though, Parker is a little too close now, and she’s poking him in a way that makes him irrationally mad at her.

He sighs and refuses to look at her. “Parker,” he warns.

“Eliot,” she replies, stretching out the syllables in his name like she’s enjoying herself.

“I’ll snap that off your hand,” he mutters.

Parker keeps poking though, and Eliot turns heel and storms out.

She gets under his skin so easily, and he can - and has - withstood some of the most creative torture methods ever invented, but Parker presses his buttons like no one else. He knows it’s weird that he enjoys that about her, but not many people make the effort to know him well enough that they learn what makes him tick.

A couple of days later the next part of the con is ready to go. Hardison and Parker have chosen out the most ridiculous Men In Black costumes and dammit they’re so annoying, but Eliot can’t stop playing out the scenario where he’s the one to peel off their stupid clothes.

Hardison puts on one of his tracks when they’re alone in Lucille. It’s actually not awful. When Hardison starts singing about the two of them, Eliot is surprised that his first reaction is fondness, and not irritation. Hardison is grinning like an absolute dummy though, and maybe it’s just because it’s infectious, but Eliot is joining in and together they try to sync up and change the pitch. It comes out sounding awful, but it’s fun.

They’re just two good ol’ boys, and maybe things aren’t as bad as Eliot sometimes thinks.

Of course the song ends eventually, so Eliot scowls like is expected of him, and they go on with the con.

They win, so they gloat. And then Nate and Sophie head off to do whatever Nate and Sophie do. Eliot pulls his hat down and shoves his hands in his pockets and asks what plans Parker and Hardison have made.

In a conspiratorial voice, Hardison whispers he’s got a surprise planned for their date night. Eliot scuffs a boot on the sidewalk and takes the hint, but Hardison says he should come by the office tonight. He doesn’t say what his date plans are, obviously. Eliot is glad for that.

He considers the offer seriously. He has a perfectly serviceable apartment, but, well, the office has a heavy bag hung under the stairs and it’s less than ten seconds from an industrial kitchen. Good distractions, for a guy trying not to think too hard about his best friends’ while they’re on their hot date.

He showers at home and emails a few recipes to himself so he can print them off at the office, and he heads over. It’s a slow night in the restaurant which bothers him some, because dammit, he’s invested now; he wants this place to succeed.

Maybe his dream restaurant isn’t one owned by his colleague, but Hardison is suspiciously hands off whenever Eliot wants to make suggestions. He’s wondered about that a time or two, although with no real conclusion.

The office, when he gets back there, is dark. There’s an eerie green glow from inside which he figures is some kind of security lighting. It’s nothing to put his guard up, for sure. The thing that’s done that is the obvious sound of voices coming from inside. Two voices. Very disctinctive.

Eliot wavers uneasily at the door, because he’s clearly about to crash a date and he needs to sort out how he feels about that. What’s making it hard though, is the sudden, almost crushing hope that’s flared up. That maybe… just maybe...

The door opens and it’s Parker. Hardison is sat on the floor on a blanket and is pouring orange soda into a champagne flute like the completely ridiculous human being he is. Parker grabs one of Eliot’s hand and pulls him over to the blanket. Hardison shoves a glass into his other and shuffles closer. He looks uncertain, so Eliot closes the rest of the space himself, almost without thought.

He wants to ask. But he’s actually very smart, despite how people sometimes perceive him, and it’s fairly obvious what this is, even if none of them want to call it that. So instead they drink soda out of champange flutes, eat the very strange assortment of foods that Parker deemed picnic-appropriate, and laugh about dumb stuff that makes Eliot feel light and springy like he’s not felt for a very long time.

No one touches the cold slices of cheese and tomato pizza, although the pepperoni disappears rapidly. He knows it doesn’t really mean anything, but food is life, and maybe Eliot _wants_ it to mean something.

It’s good. And it’s better than good, if they’re being honest. It’s not the start of something, just a continuation. But Eliot can kiss them now, and hold them and touch them. He’s always been good at using his hands to send messages, and this is one he’s wanted to send for a really long time.

It’ll take some figuring, but they can figure it together.

**Author's Note:**

> Funny story. I watched this episode after I finished work and then I sat down and wrote this in full. Funny how motivation works, huh.
> 
> Also I actually dislike pepperoni pizza but whatever. It worked as a metaphor in this. Kinda.
> 
> I actually have a long fic which is far more true to canon and which tells the story of how I think the actually OT3 get together, but I like playing around with other ideas and its all good practice for exploring them as characters, even if this isn't the verse I like to play in the most. This tense and writing style is so much fun too, it's not my default style and I really admire people who use it for longer works!
> 
> As always, thank you for reading! All comments are treasured :3


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